


Drink

by suncityblues



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Bars and Pubs, M/M, Other, Shizaya - Freeform, simon is practically omnipotent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suncityblues/pseuds/suncityblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/6253.html?thread=23957869#t23957869">From the DRR kink meme:</a> Shizuo’s got a new job at a bar on the seedy side of town where the yakuza are known to hang out, and it’s his first night on the job. </p><p>Izaya comes in with an older man (some yakuza dude, can be from the show or OC) and luckily for Shizuo doesn’t notice him because a) he’s already a little drunk and b) the guy takes him over to some corner table and comes up to the bar to order drinks himself. He gets two drinks and Shizuo thinks he sees him slip something into one of them, but he’s not sure. </p><p>He watches their table cautiously for a while until he notices Izaya starting to act strange and kind of sleepy. When the guy tries to lead Izaya out of the bar, Shizuo can’t help but intervene. (or maybe he could wait longer and catch him in the act?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink

Shizuo knows he’s not cut out for bar work, never has been, but with Tom away for the better part of two months to see his ailing mother he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter— it’s work or starve and, besides, it’s only for a few weeks. He owes the cook at Russia Sushi, Denis, at least that much: two months of good behavior. He didn’t need to put in a good word after all (though Shizuo suspects the owner was more afraid of incurring the wrath of the three of them than he was feeling magnanimous). 

Either way it leads Shizuo to spend his evenings cleaning glasses and pouring the same boring drinks over and over again for a seedy clientele that usually don’t tip well. He doesn’t like it a bit, doesn’t like the way the customers leer at the women who enter, doesn’t like the way they leer at the men, either. More than once has he seen members of the yakuza come in, flaunting their status drunkenly, showing the edges of weapons barely concealed under their clothing but he’s held it together surprisingly well; by the time he snaps and starts punching people, it’s usually during one of the almost-nightly bar fights anyway and somehow he manages to hold on to his job. 

If anything, according to the owner, there’ve been less fights since Shizuo started than usual. 

So it brings him to a night, about three weeks into his work there when he gets the particular agitated feeling he’s come to associate with Bad News, and crushes the glass he was holding as he tries not to think about the usual source of it. But this kind of bar is surely too nice for the likes of the Flea, and he’s relieved to look around and see no one he recognizes, finally allowing himself to be distracted by one of his stammering coworkers as they try to get him to stop bleeding all over the bar. 

It’s still fairly early in the evening on a weekday; there’s a few men clearly on their way back from work and older men who had been there since before even Shizuo came in that day. There is a couple in one of the dark booths in the back who must have come in while he was distracted. It is, like most days, a typical group of people. 

The couple is still there a few hours later, when Shizuo thinks he recognizes the where the feeling came from when one of the people in the booth makes their way up to the bar. The man is older, probably in his early 50’s, and he seems a bit too alert to have been drinking for as long as he has, Shizuo’s counted this as maybe his fifth or sixth round of the night. In fact, his only tell is the shaking in his hands when he takes the two glasses and the way his smile seems to fall short, then light up after one of Shizuo’s coworkers asks him about his friend in a bid for a bigger tip. “Oh,” the man says, in a posh accent Shizuo isn’t accustomed to hearing in this sort of place, “he’s great, a real catch” and the bartender lights up like she’s just been let in on a juicy secret; she’s so charmed by even the admission of him being gay (and the money he puts into the tip jar) that she doesn’t notice anything slip something into one of the drinks. 

Shizuo does, though. 

He tells himself he could be seeing things. He’s been wrong before and a group of girls who looked maybe a bit too young to be in a bar had bought him a few drinks while they vacillated between talking about people Shizuo has no interest in knowing about and calling him cute. 

So Shizuo makes a deal with himself as he watches the back of the man’s head from the other end of the bar. He can clearly hear Tom or Denis or Simon sigh, not entirely disappointed but not entirely approving either when he tells him he got fired for wrongly thinking some guy drugged his date and kicking him out a window face first. 

He’ll go over to the booth, then under the premise of seeing if they need anything, just to make sure. 

But just as he starts to get out from behind the bar the man gets up, extending his hand to his date and the silver rings on a small pale hand catches the light. Shizuo closes his eyes, and opens them, and suddenly Izaya is right in front of him. And he should have known. He really fucking should have known. They make eye contact and Izaya’s eyes open comically wide, he trips, and tries to run but the man catches him around the waist and murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like, “not so fast, Orihara-kun…” 

Another glass breaks and Izaya is out the door, less gracefully than usual, with Shizuo right behind him and a man with a broken nose shouting nasally insults at their backs. 

They cover the distance to Ikebukuro in sort order, in the back of Shizuo’s mind, beyond the immense overpowering rage, he knows Izaya is trying to get him around Simon so he can have a safe get-away while Shizuo is distracted, though Izaya is not doing nearly as much parkour as usual, just seeming to concentrate on running and not tripping. Then they’re in an alleyway and Izaya’s back is against a dirty wall with the lights of Russia Sushi just beyond the opening on the other side and it occurs to Shizuo that this is how it’s going to end. 

Izaya’s face is ashen pale even in the darkness and there is sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. He’s panting hard and he looks nauseous and caged, but resigned as well. Shizuo is bending a street sign in his hand as Izaya sinks down to the ground level and for the first time Izaya looks weak.  
Actually weak. 

They’ve had sex before, him and Izaya, though much less often now than when they were in Raira together, they’ve fought, they’ve done both at the same time, and even then Izaya never stopped grinning, mocking him, egging him on. Now he just seems off balance.  
“Shizuuuu-chan” he says, and it’s more strained than usual. 

“What’s wrong with you, Flea, given up on living already?” Shizuo sneers even as he remembers the man and the drink, and suddenly the thought of Izaya with the pointy end of a ripped out street sign shoved through his solar plexus seems a lot less appealing than it did before.  
“What, you’ve never seen a guy whose been drugged before?” Izaya lets out a little laugh at this, though Shizuo isn’t sure he sees the joke, he does find himself taking out a cigarette, “The drug was a bit of a surprise, I must admit— I would have let him fuck me anyway, you know— it would have been worth the information I was getting but sometimes I forget even the most predictable humans can do something odd. I really didn’t think he had it in him…”

Shizuo is standing perfectly still, staring down at Izaya who had let his eyes close in the middle of his speech and seems by all appearances to be drifting off. He tells himself the thing he’s feeling is pity, for whatever pathetic life the Flea leads, and not a strange mixture of jealousy and something else.  
He’s not entirely sure why he does it but he lifts Izaya’s limp body off the concrete, (who, as it turns out, was not as asleep as he seemed to be, ended up kicking Shizuo in the face twice) slings him over his shoulder and marches him past Simon who asks “Ne Shiz-uo, did you kill him or are you friends again?” and who Shizuo suspects has witnessed the whole scene in the alley, before making his way back to his scrappy little apartment to let Izaya sleep off the drugs.

And, if in the morning, Izaya gives him a blow job in the shower before skipping off back to Shinjuku, well, Shizuo just considers it a thank you and then stops considering it at all.


End file.
